


The Disappearance of Ida Harding

by EmpressofKingfishers



Category: Original Work
Genre: Childhood, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Exploring, Horror, Mysterious Death, Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV First Person, Recovered Memories, Supernatural Elements, woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressofKingfishers/pseuds/EmpressofKingfishers
Summary: I recently learned that my childhood friend had gone missing. But I know where she is.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s an all too familiar song. A child seemingly vanishes into thin air, with different possibilities plaguing their family.

Assaulted, murdered, kidnapped, buried, tortured, sold overseas, each possible scenario getting worse and worse. A ransom? Abducted to be given to a family? Sold to a black market that held a demand for children? A serial killer who targets little kids?

Too many children, taken before they could grow out of their childhood and see the world. Both child and parents ripped from each other. They have siblings and cousins who will slowly forget what their missing relative looked like as they get older… the friends who asked, “Where did [name] go?” only to be met with a wall of silence or lies.

I was that friend. I loved Ida; I still do. We had met in preschool, and I still own the small, purple teddy bear she had given me. She was eight years old, having just turned eight. Ida was a few months older than me, so I was only seven when she suddenly… disappeared. One day she was there, the next she wasn’t. 

I’m not sure how it happened for other people who had friends vanish, but I was fed lies about her after she was gone.

First, it was, ‘Ida went on vacation, she’ll be back soon.’

Then it was, ‘She’s sick right now.’

Finally, after several months, it was, ‘Ida moved to another state.’

As I grew up, I was tempted to reach out and find her. But the way my parents avoided letting me try to contact Ida made my childish brain go, Ida still hates me, and that’s why I can’t call her. That thought alone would come back to haunt me whenever I was about to look for her on the internet.

Eventually, I considered her one of those tragic, childhood friendships that are common. You grow up with a friend and lose contact with them. That’s what I thought it was, until Betty, my roommate, turned the tv on to a true-crime channel.

“… on July 3rd, 2003,” the host was saying, and a picture of a girl popped onto the screen, “Eight-year-old Ida Harding went missing…”

Something clicked into place.

“Opal?” Betty asked, noticing my shocked, pale face, “What’s wrong?”

“I… I know her,” I stammered, shaking so hard my teeth chattered, “Oh my God… oh my God… oh my God… Ida! Ida’s in the House!”

**June 29th, 2003**  
“I dunno,” I hesitantly said, “I don’t like this.” We stood before an old, once-grand house deep in the woods. What was once white painted wooden walls had a tinge of green to it, and ivy climbed up on the support beams that held up the porch. We could see the upstairs windows were broken, and the front door was missing.

“How many kids do you know have such a cool hideout?” Ida asked, hands on her hips, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Come on, let’s go!”

I didn’t know why she thought it was cool. There was something about the house that made me physically sick like I had eaten something bad. The small hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, like something or someone was secretly watching us.

Part of me wanted to leave Ida alone and run back home, but another part of me didn’t want to leave her alone. So, when she walked forwards, I meekly followed behind.

“I wonder what the door looked like,” Ida murmured.

“Maybe it was made of gold,” I suggested, “That’s why it was stolen.” I giggled. Not at what I said, I tend to giggle when I’m nervous.

“Don’t be scared,” Ida reassured me, “There’s no one here. And if there is someone here, I’ll protect you!” She flashed me a confident grin and hugged me. Usually, her declarations of protection would bring me comfort. But this time, I didn’t feel comforted. Instead, it made me feel sicker.

However, I forced a smile on my face and nodded. I didn’t want to hurt Ida’s feelings, or make her feel like I didn’t believe in her. It would have broken her heart to know I didn’t feel safe.

We walked to the front porch, and Ida timidly tested the three steps, the porch itself, before turning to me, a smug smile dancing on her face. She waited for me to join her before stepping over the threshold.

It was like we had entered an exotic, magical world.

Warm sunlight fell through broken windows, and dust danced through the air. Moss grew on the floor, the wall paint was slowly crumbling, with vines and plants slowly growing through the holes on the wall and floor.

Although I felt physically ill, I couldn’t help but be in awe. There were no signs of anyone else having trespassed here. The lack of litter, graffiti, or footprints in the dust just made the place seemed untouched like we were the first ones to ever visit the house in years. The lack of presence from previous explorers made me all the more nervous.

“This place feels sacred,” I murmured to Ida, “Like we shouldn’t be here and we’re disturbing some kind of holy ground.”

Ida took a moment to consider what I had said. “Ok, how about we just explore? Take a quick peek into the rooms? If this is really bothering you, we don’t have to make this our hideout. Is that ok?” Ida seemed pleased with the compromise she came up with, so I held my tongue and nodded.

Ida must have sensed my trepidation, for she took my hand, reassuringly squeezed it, and moved forwards.

The touch of another person calmed me down a bit, but I jumped a foot into the air when Ida stepped on a piece of floorboard that loudly groaned, the noise almost deafening in the silence. A squeak escaped my throat, and I blushed in embarrassment when Ida turned to look at me. I could tell she was holding back her laughter. Her hazel eyes twinkled.

“S… sorry,” I stammered, “We… we should be careful where we go. It’s dangerous.” One wrong step on a rotten floorboard and we could end up plummeting into the basement and getting severely injured. That was if the house had a basement.

“You’re right,” Ida said, the promise of danger making her somewhat serious. But right as she turned away, I caught a glimpse of the corner of her mouth quirk up. I sulked, knowing Ida would tease me nonstop after we leave.

The first room we went into was what we assumed was the living room. All that remained from the previous owners in this area was a slowly rotting couch and a moss-covered carpet on the floor. A large broken window let in a gentle summer breeze like the house was gently inhaling and exhaling.

 _A sleeping home,_ I thought, _dreaming of beautiful memories, and yearning for its owners to return._ For some strange reason, the thought of the house missing its owners almost brought tears to my eyes. I blinked away the tears, not wanting to explain to Ida I was getting emotional over an abandoned house.

The second room was empty, so it didn’t provide any clues on what it used to be.

However, the kitchen was more interesting. An old stove, dust-covered counters, a broken table, and an ancient fridge greeted us.

“I’ve never seen such a fridge,” Ida remarked, walking over to it, opened it, and peered inside. “It looks so weird.”

“I’ve seen fridges like that on tv,” I said, “Mom and Dad watch tv shows that take place several decades ago.”

“Do you think the house is from that decade?”

“M… maybe,” I glanced around the kitchen, “It’s hard to tell.” No doubt it was that old, if not older. The house had managed to stay up for long because the woods provided good protection from severe weather conditions that would otherwise damage the house. Or maybe something else is protecting the house, I thought with a shiver.

Ida backed out of the last bathroom on the first floor, “Oh… that’s… ok, sorry to disturb your resting place, Dead Racoon,” she gently closed the door and turned to me, her nose wrinkled in disgust, “No more looking into bathrooms,” she muttered. But her face lit up when she turned her head to the left to look at the large staircase that led upstairs.

“Are we going upstairs?” I whimpered.

“It’ll be quick,” Ida promised, “Then we can leave. The stairs might not be safe, though. I’ll go up first, follow where I go.”

Out of habit, Ida started walking up the middle of the stairs, before remembering what she had just said, and quickly scooted herself close towards the railing, clutching it as she walked up the remaining steps. I waited until she was at the top before following her. “I want to go home soon,” I whispered.

Ida nodded, but kept her gaze to the floor, studying it. She pointed, and said, “We should probably walk closer to the walls. And move slowly so we can listen out if the floor might collapse.”

Taking Ida’s words to heart, I plastered myself to the wall, and we slowly made our way past the bathroom and peaked into the first bedroom.

Bleached wallpaper that was probably once cornflower blue was peeling from the walls, revealing rotting wood underneath. The skeletal remains a large bed lay in front of us, with old wooden toys scattered around the room. Tucked in the corner was a wooden cradle. The room itself was large, with its own private bathroom, indicating that it was the master bedroom the parents had lived in.

“I wish my room were this big,” I wistfully said, “I’d be able to get so many stuffed animals…”

“I don’t think your parents would buy that many stuffed animals,” Ida pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

We then made our way to the second bedroom.

“I wonder who slept here?” Ida asked, glancing around the room. This time, there was nothing to give away who once occupied the room.

“A boy used to,” I firmly said, “I’m not sure why, but I can tell.”

Ida took a moment to consider my words. “Interesting, you might be able to tell because you have a brother? I wish I had a brother,” Ida added, “None of my sisters go exploring with me. They’re a bunch of sissies.”

I held my tongue, not wanting to tell Ida that I didn’t blame her sisters for not hanging around with her. Ida was tomboyish and rough, the polar opposite of her more reserved and gentle sisters.

We then carefully crossed the hallway to peek into what used to be either a study or a library. Dusty bookshelves lined the walls, and a large, moth chewed carpet covered half of the floor.

“I wonder what the family was like,” I said out loud, “Maybe the dad worked while the mom stayed home?” I could already see a family forming in my mind, looking similar to those… what were they called? Nuclear families? Nuclear families, you see on old tv shows.

“Or maybe the mom worked, and the dad stayed home,” Ida said, “It could be possible.”

We shrugged, then walked towards the third bedroom.

“A teenage girl’s room,” we giggled, peering into the room with curiosity. Compared to the other family members, the mysterious girl had left more clues to her identity. Bright pink paint covered the walls, ancient makeup laid scattered around the room, and moldy dresses were draped across the bed frame. Dusty, lacy curtains moved in the wind that gently blew in from the broken window.

“She must have been so cool,” Ida said, “I can’t wait to be a teenager. They get to do all sorts of stuff we can’t do.”

“Teenagers are so weird, though,” I responded, “They’re always moody and nasty.”

“Yeah but then we get to be moody and nasty to kids!” Ida exclaimed, “We can the coolest teenagers ever! Anyways, I want to go downstairs and see if there’s a basement.”

“But… but I thought you said we could leave,” I stammered, feeling slightly betrayed.

“It’ll be quick,” Ida sounded like a broken record at this point. “Come on!” She stepped around me and headed towards the staircase to go back to the first floor. I shivered, the bad feeling in my stomach was getting worse.

When I finally joined Ida downstairs, she looked at me with confusion. “You’d think a house this big would have a basement,” she said. “But I can’t find a door or any indication that there’s a basement.”

“M… maybe it’s a cellar?” I asked, shivering, “It… the entrance might be outside.” Ida nodded eagerly and galloped past me, seeming to not notice how upset and uncomfortable I was. I timidly followed her and noticed how I felt slightly better when we stepped outside. But I nearly threw up when we found the cellar door and Ida managed to wrench it open. “Do you want to come in?” she asked.

I frantically shook my head no. Ida shrugged, and disappeared into the cellar, leaving me alone. I peered down the dark steps, trying to see Ida. I could only hear her walking around and nearly jumped out of my skin when Ida yelped. “What happened?!” I called.

“I bashed my leg against a box!” she called, and a moment later emerged. “It’s way too dark under there, can’t see a thing,” she said, rubbing her knee. “We’ll come back tomorrow, and I’ll bring a flashlight.”

“I’m not coming back here,” I firmly said.

Ida looked at me with wide eyes, seemingly shocked. “You’re not? But aren’t you having fun?”

“No!” I shouted, bursting into tears, “I hate it here! I’ve been feeling sick all day, and this place creeps me out! I just want to go home!”

Ida’s eyes narrowed. “I see how it is,” she coldly said, “You’re just like my sisters. Too much of a sissy to go exploring, huh? Fine, I’ll come back here by myself. See you later, Opal.” She stormed away, leaving me behind.

**February 2nd, 2021**  
Betty listened to my story with open ears. When I finished talking, Betty took a minute to get her thoughts together. “So… if your theory is right… she’s still there? Should we call the police?”

“No,” I firmly said, “The police would never be able to find the house. We have to go there ourselves and find her."


	2. Chapter 2

**February 3rd, 2021**  
“Mom! Dad!” I said, forcing a smile on my face as I embraced them both. Deep down, I held resentment over the fact they never told me the truth about my friend, Ida Harding, who vanished when she was eight years old. I know they did that to protect me, but I had deserved to know the truth. “This is my roommate, Betty. I’ve told you about her, remember?”

Betty shook their hands with a beaming smile and went, “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. It’s nice to finally meet you.” But behind that smile, I could see she was thinking about the story I continued while we made the drive to my childhood home.

**July 1st, 2003**  
I felt sad.

During the summer, Ida would come by every morning so we could spend all day playing together. But because of our fight on the 29th, Ida hadn’t stopped by yesterday, which was the 30th. This didn’t go unnoticed by my parents. “Where’s Ida?” Mom had asked. I shrugged and said I didn’t know.

I was lonely. As a teenager, my brother didn’t want to hang out with me, Mom was too busy doing housework, and Dad was at work. I have other friends, but they either live too far away, on vacation, or at summer camp.

Fine, I thought, I’ll be the one to go to Ida. Yesterday she must have spent the day exploring the cellar in the abandoned house, so surely she must be home. But when I knocked on the door, Mr. Harding answered. “Hello, Opal. Can I help you?”

“Is Ida home?” I asked.

“Sorry, you just missed her. Said she was going out to explore a new hideout or something. I’m not sure where she is, though.”

“I see,” I responded, “Thank you for letting me know. Have a nice day, Mr. Harding.” Ida, exploring a new hideout? That meant she was back at the abandoned house. Even just thinking about the house made me feel sick, but I didn’t feel truly comfortable with Ida being alone in that place. There was something incredibly off about it. Like it was something dangerous.

“Ida?” I called, “Ida, are you here?” I stood outside the abandoned house, shouting her name. Unless I knew she was nearby, I would not go inside by myself.

Ida’s head popped up in a window on the second floor. “Opal?” she shouted down, “What’re you doing here?!”

“I’ve come to visit you!” I answered.

Ida hesitated, before calling, “Ok! You can come inside!” Her face vanished from the window. She greeted me by the staircase. “I’m surprised to see you here,” she sneered, “Considering how much of a sissy you are.” She adjusted the backpack she had on and loudly sniffed.

I was extremely tempted to smack Ida, but I held myself back. At least I have enough sense to distrust this place, I thought. “I was lonely and wanted to hang out with you,” I admitted. “So can we hang out?” I did my best to look pitiful, hoping Ida would take pity on me.

Ida took her sweet time thinking. After a minute or two, she sighed and nodded. “I suppose you can. Come on, I’ve been looking through the house again to find the perfect spot to make a base of operations. The second floor doesn’t look promising, so I’m going to the living room.”

Oh, joy, I thought to myself, inwardly shivering. As Ida led me to the living room, I noticed something unusual. “Does the house look a bit darker to you?” I asked, noticing how there was a lot more shade inside the house compared to when we first came here.

“Yeah,” Ida said over her shoulder, “But it’s probably because of the sun being in a different part of the sky. It was a lot darker yesterday. Anyways… the living room might be the best place. It’s really big.” When we entered the room, Ida took off her backpack and placed it on the floor. Muttering under her breath, she took out an old beach blanket and placed it in the middle of the room. She then took out some books and placed them on top of the blanket, taking a moment to show me the stuffed rabbit she carries in it. Closing her backpack, Ida glanced up at me. “You should come see the cellar,” she said, pulling a flashlight out from her pocket.

I was about to say no, but I noticed how Ida was looking at me, slightly hostile. “Ok,” I mumbled.

Ida led the way to the kitchen, where there was a back door. Grunting, Ida managed to get the door unstuck and open it. “Oops,” she said when the hinges finally broke and the door crashed to the earth with a loud thud. “Um… it’s fine, I suppose.” Letting out a slightly nervous laugh, she stepped on the fallen door and walked towards the cellar, the entrance a few feet away.

Because I had been feeling so sick the other day, I hadn’t noticed the rather hidden road behind the house. At first glance, it just looked like a giant, empty space where no trees grew. But if you stare at it long enough, you can see the faint outline of a road, probably made of dirt or pavement. “I wonder where the road goes,” I said out loud.

“The road?” Ida turned to see where I was looking, “Oh, yeah, that. When I finished exploring the cellar, I walked along the road for a few miles. It goes on a long way, and probably leads to the…” she pondered for a moment, “The main road? The one that leads to the city? Or… eh, whatever. Anyways, come here.”

Ida walked down the cellar stairs first, and I followed her. Ida flipped on the flashlight and shined the beam around the cellar. It was… incredibly dusty. Dust in the air, dust on the ground, dust on the shelves, and dust on the crates. It was also small.

“I checked around to see if there’s anything left behind,” Ida said, “But everything’s been taken. Probably by vandals. What assholes, stealing from a defenseless House!” She angrily kicked a piece of wood.

I was absolutely floored by Ida cursing. Even when she got enraged by other kids she didn’t curse. Something about that made me uncomfortable. You’d have thought vandals had stolen from her, not the abandoned house. “M… maybe the people who stole from here needed the items more than the house?” I timidly suggested. I shrank when Ida turned her furious gaze on me.

“They don’t deserve those things,” she spat, storming past me. I hurried to follow her, not wanting to be left alone in the dark cellar. When we emerged to the world above ground, Ida continued her rant. “The people who stole from here aren’t in need, they just think it’s cool to steal old stuff from abandoned houses! Probably selling it to other people. They don’t really value these places.” Ida tossed her hair over her shoulder and shoved her flashlight back into her pocket. Fire danced in her eyes, “They’re worse than murderers.”

Ok, this was getting weird. Comparing people who wanted a cool souvenir from an old house to murderers was ridiculous. But I didn’t want to point that out to Ida, out of fear of being yelled at for taking the side of such “awful” people.

**July 2nd, 2003**  
Upon returning home yesterday, I nearly fell asleep at the dinner table, I had never felt so drained in my life. It was probably the result of feeling sick and tiptoeing around Ida’s new overprotectiveness of the House. At one point, my foot had plunged through the floor upstairs. Ida yelled at me for doing that, seeming not to care that I could have seriously hurt myself.

I was dreading going back there, but I didn’t want Ida to be alone.

My unease didn’t go away as Ida blabbed the whole way through the woods. “Once I set up the base I’ll start smuggling food in and my valuable possessions here. Oh! Do you want to know something cool?”

“What?” I weakly asked.

“I brought Anna with me last night,” Ida referred to her older sister, “Telling her about the House. But we couldn’t find it!”

“How is that possible?” I asked, “Did you take the wrong path or something?”

“No!” Ida was excited, “It was the exact path! I checked and double-checked to make sure we were on the trail where I put up markers! When we reached the spot where the House is, it was gone! Anna called me a liar and punched my arm,” Ida winced and rubbed her arm. Indeed, there was a big bruise proving that Anna had chosen violence against Ida. “I think the House really likes us. And makes it the best hideout! Only we can find the House, and no one else can. Isn’t it great?”

“It’s… super great,” I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. No, it wasn’t great at all! It’s an awful idea- the fact no one else could find the house. What if something happened to us? What if one of us had to run and get help, but couldn’t bring help because the house disappears? Not to mention the fact it’s not normal for a house to up and vanish. Something was definitely wrong with the place, and it was upsetting Ida didn’t feel the same way. I had no idea how to convince her that messing around in this place was a bad idea without upsetting her. With how she was acting lately, I didn’t trust her to react positively to any suggestions that the house was a bad place.

The moment we stepped over the threshold; I registered the foreboding feeling in the air. It was suffocating, it was angry, and it was hostile. Even Ida looked rattled. “We should… probably come back another day,” I said, grabbing her arm. You’d have thought there was a storm outside, the house was that dark.

Ida shook me off. “Oh, fuck off!” she snapped, “You can go, but I’m staying! You don’t like it, and that’s why the House is so angry! It knows how you really feel.” She glowered, “Aren’t friends supposed to be supportive of each other? How could you not like the House? It’s an amazing place!”

I saw red, grabbed Ida by the shoulders, and violently shook her. “Are you stupid?!” I screamed, “This is not an amazing place! It hates the both of us! Can’t you tell?! IT. DOESN’T. WANT. US. HERE!” Every word I said, I shook Ida, desperately wanting her to snap out of it. Why did she think this place was perfect? Why did she not see or feel that the house doesn’t want us here? Deep down, I could feel why the house was angry, and its anger scares me.

Neither of us belonged here. We weren’t the original family. The things Ida brought into the house doesn’t belong to the family of the house. What right did we have to bring our junk in and strut around the house as if we owned it? It wanted us gone.

Ida managed to get out of my grip, and she slapped my face. “You’re just jealous!” she screamed, “I found the House first, and it likes me! Go away!”

My ears rang, and my face stung. Holding back my tears, I tried one last time. “Ida, please listen to me! I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with this place, it’s old, creepy, and dangerous! We can find another cool place! Ida, please!”

Ida stubbornly crossed her arms. “I’m not going anywhere. But you, you can turn around and leave. You’re no longer welcome here, Opal.”

My heart sank.

The way she had her feet planted, arms crossed, and jaw locked, was a clear sign that she would no longer listen to reason. She glared at me, so I had no choice but to submit to her decisions. Although heartbroken she had chosen this… this place over me, her best friend, I felt angry. “Goodbye, Ida,” I coldly said, turning to leave. Over my shoulder, I managed to get in the last word. “Don’t bother coming by my house anymore.”

**February 3rd, 2021**  
After dinner, Betty and I retreated to our rooms to map out a game plan. We’d pack food, water, a map and compass, portable chargers, flashlights, my Swiss Army knife, a matchbook, and Betty promised she’d bring a first aid kit, just in case anything bad happened at the house. There was no telling if the house would be there or not, and if it is there, it might be dangerous.

“We could take on a zombie apocalypse, we’re so prepared,” Betty boasted.

I flashed her a worried smile, “Let’s hope there are no zombies,” I said.

**July 3rd, 2003**  
Lips pursed, I blankly stared at the television, barely paying attention to what was happening on the screen. Andrew, my brother, sat next to me, playing on his Gameboy Color. However, he glanced at me, frowning. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked. Usually, I’d be leaning against him, trying to see what game he was playing.

“Nothing,” I muttered.

He scoffed and went back to playing his game. He cares enough to notice I’m not bugging him but not enough to pry into my business.

The house phone rang, catching our attention. Mom must have picked up because several seconds later she came into the family room. “Opal,” she said, “Have you seen Ida around today?”

“No,” I crossly said, “And I don’t want to see her ever again!”

Mom rolled her eyes and left the room.

“Had a fight, huh?” Andrew asked. Ah, so he does care. “That’s rough, but it’s good to have fights every once in a while. When you reconcile, your bond gets closer. Something to look back on and laugh about when you’re older.”

“But this was a really serious fight,” I said, slumping. “I yelled at her and she slapped me.”

“… uh…” clearly Andrew had been expecting a silly fight, like over dolls or something to that extent. “Who knows, maybe you’ll look back on this and laugh. Hopefully.” He got from the couch and hurried away, clearly no longer comfortable talking about little kid fights. “Good luck,” he added over his shoulder.

Grunting, I turned my attention back to the television. Was it really possible to go back to the way things were? I had no idea, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if Ida and I could become friends again. She chose the scary house over me, and there was no coming back from that.


	3. Chapter 3

**February 4th, 2021**  
During the night, my dreams were about the abandoned house that my childhood friend, Ida Harding, was trapped in. If anyone who was familiar with Ida’s disappearance would think it’s odd for me to realize recently where Ida was all these years later.

That’s because I didn’t know she had gone missing up until February 2nd. For so many years, I grew up thinking Ida had moved away and didn’t bother trying to look for her because I was scared she hated me. But now, I was going to make everything right. I was going to find her.

Someone knocked on the door. “Hang on,” I said, getting out of bed. Betty stood on the other side of the door. She’s my roommate and had come with me to my parents’ house to look for Ida. She believed the story I had told her and wanted to help. “Do you have everything I told you to pack?” I asked.

Betty grinned at me, “I sure did. Do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” I said, waving her off, “But since you’re done, could you kindly get me some coffee? I want to be ready.”

Betty nodded and lowered her voice. “I told your folks that we’re going hiking,” she said, “They don’t know the real reason.”

I nodded, and Betty left me. With a sigh, I looked at my backpack on the floor. Before going to bed last night, I had already slipped in a flashlight, a thin jacket, my portable charger, a map of the woods and a compass.

Right as we were about to leave, I put my Swiss Army knife into my pocket, put some snacks and two water bottles into my backpack before donning my winter coat. Betty gave me a thumbs up when I asked her if she had packed food and water. “Alright,” I said to Mom and Dad, “We’re going out now.”

“I can’t believe you’re going out in this cold,” Mom said with a shiver.

“Take care and don’t freeze to death,” Dad added, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Do you know the way?” Betty asked as we trudged along in silence. She looked around at the neighborhood we were walking through with keen eyes.

“The markers Ida left up are probably still there,” I said. “I remember the start of the path was in this neighborhood. She used pink ribbons. See?” I pointed at a tree that had a slowly rotting pink ribbon tied around one of the branches. “As long as we walk in a straight path it’ll… hopefully appear.” I wasn’t sure if the house would be there or not… I remember so clearly how Ida once told me she had taken one of her sisters there, but the house hadn’t turned up.

“Well…” Betty inhaled and exhaled, steeling herself, “It’s time to adventure into the unknown.” We tentatively took a step into the woods.

The woods are massive. If you’re walking on a manmade trail, you don’t have to worry about getting lost. But if you were wandering through the woods off-trail, you ran the risk of getting lost. That’s why Ida had taken to leaving up ribbons whenever she made a new path in the woods. Ida… the adventurous, brave girl I once knew. “I’ve always wondered about something,” I thoughtfully said out loud, catching Betty’s attention, “If the house really hates outsiders, why did it allow Ida to find it? Or let her occupy the space?”

“I have a theory about that,” Betty huffed, and I stopped to let her catch her breath. “Thanks. Maybe the house is kind of like a… hm… how to word this… You know how, depending on the events that take place, some buildings will have echoes from the past? Like a ballroom that plays old music, and it sounds like there are people dancing? Or a battlefield having gunfire and shouting? Maybe it’s like that, but instead of sounds from the past, it’s a house from the past. That way it can’t disappear on its own.”

I stared at Betty, wondering how on earth she managed to come up with such a bizarre theory. I’m glad she was open-minded about this, but that theory was… bit of a reach.

“It’s just a theory!” Betty protested, blushing under my judgmental gaze, “Let’s just keep walking, ok?” As we continued our journey, Betty recovered her pride and asked, “How much further?”

“Maybe a mile or two,” I said, trying to recall the distance, “But for all I know, it could be further away,” Betty groaned good-naturedly, “As kids, you never really pay attention to how far something is. You’re too focused on having fun to care about the distance.”

“Well, kids probably don’t pay attention to distance because they don’t know how to estimate,” Betty laughed. I laughed alongside her. It wasn’t that funny, but tension has a way of making even the stupidest things seem funny. Probably a way to relieve stress or something like that. “I do wonder if there’s some sort of traumatic event in the house,” Betty continued, and I could hear the gears turning in her head. “Maybe someone died in there, or the owners fled from something bad.”

“Maybe,” I said, “Looking back, I’ve always thought it seemed to be waiting for the family to come back. Like an abandoned dog waiting for its owner.”

“Now, that’s just sad,” Betty said. “Makes you wonder why the family didn’t come back or try to sell the house. Shit, we should have researched the house.” I could hear Betty smack her forehead, “ _Opal, why didn’t we research the house??_ ”

“… oh…” Yeah… that definitely would have been a smart thing to do. “Betty, are we idiots?”

“Yes, we’re idiots.”

Our boots crunched into the snow. If we lost our way, at least our footprints would guide us back. It had stopped snowing the day before, so we didn’t have to worry about snow covering our tracks. The only downside was how… alone it felt. Being so far from warmth and comfort, walking towards a potentially dangerous place. The house… was it still standing?

The answer is yes.

We broke out from the woods and stood before the house, the very same house that had bewitched Ida. It had started looking worse for wear, since the last time I had seen it. Part of the roof had collapsed, and I could see that the front porch started to sag under the weight of snow.

“Oh, wow,” Betty gasped. “This is the house… It’s holding up remarkably well, considering how old it is. Opal, are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure,” I said through clenched teeth, “I have to find Ida.” I marched forwards, and I heard Betty sigh. If we get through this, I thought as we approached the house, I’ll treat Betty to a good meal.

Just like Ida did all those years ago, I carefully tested the porch, hoping the roof of it wouldn’t collapse under the snow. When nothing happened, Betty joined me, and we stepped over the threshold. Instead of a magical, exotic world, we were met with a frozen landscape. Snow had billowed in from the hole in the roof and second floor, and cold gusts of air whipped against us from the broken windows. There was something new about the place, though. Before, the house seemed untouched, like no one had explored the house since it was abandoned. But now, trash was everywhere, and graffiti marked the walls. Betty and I exchanged glances.

“Where to?” she quietly asked.

“We’ll try upstairs,” I said, “We won’t go near where the hole is, but we’ll look in the rooms.” My voice wavered, with good reason. The trash meant other people had visited this place. If Ida had really died here, someone would have found her body. Maybe she wasn’t here, and she had really been kidnapped. But I wanted to make sure.

Part of the staircase had collapsed, leaving a wide gap. Betty chose to stay on the first floor, and I leaped over the gap to get to the second floor. The first room I checked was the master bedroom. The large bed frame was gone, and the wooden cradle was smashed to pieces. The wooden toys were also gone. I did my best to carefully approach the bathroom that was attached to the room, but my foot plunged through the floor, the loud crack reverberating through the house.

“Did you die?!” Betty screamed.

“NO!” I yelled, “I’M STILL ALIVE! Unfortunately,” I muttered under my breath, yanking my foot out and placing a hand to my chest. Once my heart calmed down, I continued to the bathroom and peeked inside. The ceramic toilet was smashed, and the tub was filled with mold. The sink had broken bottles in it, and the cabinet underneath it was empty, minus an old razor.

Next up was the boy’s bedroom. It was the same as before.

When I went to the closed bathroom door, I remembered the dead raccoon from the downstairs bathroom and covered my nose. Thankfully, nothing had chosen to die in this bathroom. I couldn’t access the office due to the collapsed ceiling. The girl’s room turned up nothing, either. I did notice, however, that the dresses that were once in the room were missing as well as the old makeup. Who would want to steal rotting dresses? I thought to myself.

Betty greeted me when I went downstairs. “Nothing, huh?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Hm… well, there are other rooms here, who knows.”

She diligently followed me as I walked around the house. Nothing.

If you ignore the trash and snow, the house seemed exactly the same. All that was left was the cellar.

“I can go in first,” Betty offered, seeing my hesitation. She got her flashlight out of her bag, “I wouldn’t mind going inside.”

“No that’s…” I inhaled and exhaled, “It’s fine. I can go in first.” With great effort, I opened up the cellar door, and darkness reached out to me. Getting out my own flashlight, I turned the light on and started walking down the steps. After a brief pause, Betty followed. The cellar seemed bigger than how I remembered it. “How about you take the right side and I take the left?” I suggested. There were several open boxes, and we’d have to walk around them and the empty shelves. Betty agreed, and we went to the different sides.

Nothing stood out of the ordinary.

“You know…” Betty’s voice reached out to me, and a second later, she appeared, “I wonder if there’s a hidden room in the house.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

Betty slowly rotated in a circle, the beam of light touching every surface, “It’s a bit hard to explain, but something has seemed off about the entire house. Not like the atmosphere, but the actual building itself. It just seems… bigger on the outside?? But too small on the inside??” She thoughtfully tapped a finger to her lip, “It’s like… there’s unused space here. Besides, a lot of old houses have secret rooms or passages. Not sure why, I think it’s weird and creepy, but I guess it was in style to have hidden rooms.”

“Where do you think it could be?” I asked.

“Might as well check here,” Betty said, walking towards the far wall. She pressed her ear against the wall and knocked twice. “Wow, I just found it.”

“You did not!” I gasped.

“O’ ye of little faith,” Betty sighed, opening the hidden door. It swung open inwards. “I accept your apology for not believing me.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, my pulse racing. Of course, Ida must have found the secret room. It was just like her to look for secret rooms or passages. In front of us, was a passage, and at the end of it, was stone stairs, leading upwards. When I shined the light in the passage, I noticed that the floor was extremely dusty, with small, child-like footprints heading towards the stairs. “Oh God…” This time, I knew what I was feeling. Dread.

All those years ago, I didn’t know why I was feeling sick. But now I do.

Betty cursed under her breath when she spotted the footprints. She reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. “It might be someone else’s footprints,” she suggested, but judging by her quivering voice, she didn’t believe that. We both knew only one person could have made those footprints.

Shrugging her off, I stepped into the hallway, briefly flinching as I registered how cold it was in there. Sure, it was cold outside, but this? This hallway was freezing. But I shoved my discomfort aside. Ida was here, and I needed to find her.

We silently walked down the passage and cautiously walked up the stairs. A heavy door blocked our exit, and it took some serious coaxing on our part to get it open, revealing a hidden world within a hidden world.

Neither Betty nor I could guess what purpose the room had. Maybe the current house had been rebuilt on another house, and they built the new house around this hidden room. Or maybe it had been part of the main house but got sealed off. It wasn’t large, but it made sense why Betty thought the house seemed smaller. It had no windows, so the only light came from our flashlights. There was old furniture in the room, moldy chairs with the rotting dresses draped on them, a broken bookshelf, a table with the wooden toys on it, and a bed, with a child skeleton laying on top of the dirty mattress.

I recognized her backpack, right next to the bed. It was Ida.

I stared, transfixed on her remains. After so many years, this was our reunion. The very same place where we had last seen each other alive.

When I came to, I was sitting upright against the wall, Betty had her back to me, and she was carefully extracting items from Ida’s backpack. I asked, “What are you doing?”

Betty turned to me, “Oh thank God,” she said, getting up, “You fainted. Are you alright?”

“I am,” I said, “But what are you doing? That’s Ida’s backpack!”

“I know it is,” Betty gestured for me to calm down, “I’m trying to see if she left anything that would give us a clue on, well, how this happened. I know every kid wants their own hideout, but willing to die inside it? Opal, something weird was happening to her. Sure, I don’t know her, so maybe she is the type of person to up and die here… but that’s odd. Really, really odd.”

I turned my attention to the backpack. Betty had taken out the flashlight, ribbons, expired snacks, water-damaged books, and Ida’s small, stuffed rabbit. Seeing that stuffed rabbit made something inside me break. I started wailing, sounding like a child. Betty made noises of sympathy, sat down, and gently held me.

When I had finished crying, my sadness turned to anger. “We should burn this place down!” I said, turning to look at Betty. Betty’s eyes widen, “I brought matches,” I added, “This house is only still standing because it thinks its stupid owners are going to come back. Well, guess what?!” I directed this to the house, “They’re not coming back! It’s been several decades; they’re probably all dead!”

“Opal!” Betty hissed, slapping her hand against my mouth, “Don’t… I don’t know, provoke the house! At least wait until we’re outside!”

A familiar, heavy atmosphere slowly filled the room, catching our attention.

“I think that’s our sign to leave,” Betty said, yanking me to my feet and shoving my backpack at me, “Let’s go, before we die!”

“Not yet!” I snapped, opening my backpack, and extracted the matchbook. Peeling off my gloves, I started striking at the box, trying to catch the match on fire. But no matter how much I tried, the matches just wouldn’t catch.

“Opal!” Betty firmly said, grabbing me by the shoulders and shook me, “We need to get out of here now! Now, now! Opal, please listen to me!”

That familiar phrase, that familiar desperation in her voice made me recall something. It was almost identical to the fight Ida and I had. Me, begging Ida to come with me. And Ida, refusing to listen to me. That made me snap out of it. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake as Ida.

Upon returning back to my parents’ house, Betty snuck away to leave an anonymous tip at the police station, marking a location where Ida’s body remained.

Unfortunately, the fact there was no whisper of Ida Harding on the news or Internet, indicated that the house had vanished when someone went to investigate, or the police chalked it up as a prank. I’m not sure which one it was, but the fact she remains alone in that hidden world left me depressed. I’m just…

If I had tried hard enough, Ida would still be alive. Her family wouldn’t have spent years waiting by the phone, hoping for any sort of news. And I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to them. Betty and I are the only ones who know where she is.

But we still don’t know what made her decide to die in that house. Had she gotten trapped in that room? Did she forget she had food and starved? Or died of dehydration?

Or maybe she willingly died to spend the rest of eternity there.


End file.
